


Woman of Pride

by TenchiKai



Series: From Russia, With Love [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - From Russia With Love, Angst, Character Development, Gen, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10776015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai
Summary: (Part 5 of the From Russia, With Love series)It was painful, waking up every morning in a bed that once held a different meaning. Different connotations. But, the pain was only natural. A thing that should be expected. This was where they had been ‘us’.





	Woman of Pride

She was raised as a woman of pride. Of integrity. Of passion. This was why his betrayal still felt raw, even after so many months. The ache hadn’t lost any intensity since his brutal reveal was delivered to her after his brief return. She doubted she would ever get past it. It plagued her thoughts every single day, never ceasing to pull her into a state of blind anger. The way he told her that he’d been with someone else. How it had been  _ a man _ . Like being cheated on wasn’t enough, it had to be a man.

She pulled her hair back from her face, in a fit of frustration. She was trying to focus on something, anything else. Is it turns out, when the legendary Victor Nikiforov did anything, he made sure to do it thoroughly. Pretending. Cheating. Hurting. Disappearing. And disappear, he did.

No, she thought to herself. It was more like a surprise. One of the things  _ he  _ loved so much. She couldn’t understand how it had come to this. How that silver hair and those blue eyes now were in the care of someone else. How he had put a life inside her and totally disregarded it, the consequences of his actions being beyond selfish. But again, that was Victor Nikiforov. A whimsical son of a bitch.

She sighed with a shiver, angry that she felt emotional. Angry that the life inside of her gave her signs that it was indeed intent of sustaining the hurt. That was the worst part of the situation she was in. Being rid of him, but still carrying a part of him inside. In her darkest moments, she thought of ending it. Ending the life inside. She felt furious being forced to get tied together with him, because that’s what parents are. Tied together, despite what they feel for each other. She wanted nothing to do with him, though. Wanted him gone from her thoughts and heart. He had perverted her existence enough.

But as soon as the darkness came over her, the feelings of motherhood fought back. Making her care about the life growing within. Thoughts of holding the child, watching the child grow in her arms flooded her with warmth and pushed away the anger. It made her long to meet the little one. Made her feel like it was important not to let the indiscretion color the life of who she was supposed to take care of. Alone.

Because that is how it was going to be. She would take care of the child. Alone. With pride, integrity, and passion. 

Her phone buzzed. It was difficult reaching for it, having her belly in the way. She felt disgusted when she recognised the number. Of course, she had deleted him from her contact list. He had been deleted from everything that tied their lives together. But it seemed like he constantly wanted her to remember, pulled her back.

 

_ From +792 xxx xx x01 _

**You know I want to be involved. Why can’t you let me? It’s my child too, despite of what has happened. Hate me all you want, but don’t let the child grow up without a father.**

 

She deleted it instantly with a huff. At least it was only texts now. Before, when it seemed like he was to busy with sating himself, being perverted with that Japanese boy, it was quiet. But just as quick, it seemed like something changed. He suddenly got in touch. Trying time and time again to to calling her, filling up her voicemail. Pleading with her to let him take part in the child’s upbringing. Asking her to reconsider the decision of shutting him out. Asking her to let him love the child. But never apologizing.

Of course, she closed her voicemail as a result. Hearing him was devastating, made her foundations quake. Almost turn into rubble. She’d been weak, once. Pressing his number, making half a tone sound in her ear before she came to her senses. That’s when the texting started. And it never subsided.

It was painful, waking up every morning in a bed that once held a different meaning. Different connotations. But, the pain was only natural. A thing that should be expected. This was where they had been ‘us’. 

But she was proud. Had integrity. Had passion. That was why she chose to stay in the flat that once had been theirs, belonged to them together. That was why he had to leave, and did so without making a show of it. That, she could give him. He’d been intuitive for once. But it had made the home, for she still considered it to be one, empty. But he had left her the bed. And the sofa.

She couldn’t care less about the material things. What pained her, made her ache inside, was all reminded. The memories of  _ him _ . She hated being tossed back and forth between loathing and longing, knowing very well that he wasn’t giving her a second thought. He was busy, busy with someone else. Busy loving someone new, someone that wasn’t her. She felt sick to her stomach, knowing very well that it was because of what she was carrying inside. Child or feelings, it didn’t matter. She hadn’t felt like herself since the day he left.

She got out of bed and made some tea. Again, her mother had messaged her. “Irinka, come home. Come back to Moscow, there’s no need to stay.” She sighed as she read it out loud, feeling a small stir inside her belly. “You don’t want to go anywhere either, do you?” And that’s what she replied, that neither of them wanted to go. That their lives were here. That they would make it work, somehow.

She wasn’t lonely. She had friends, colleagues, people that looked up to her. She did everything in her power to control her emotions; make them think she was fine, was as put together as the pictures suggested. She made sure it was only at home when she let the feelings, the pull of the life she left behind, overpower her. Made sure she was alone. But all of that was about to change. 

No matter what happened, she’d never be alone again.

* * *

 

She realized that this was it. Or rather, she understood as much, seeing her mother’s joyous and panicked expressions alternate. It was July, sweltering hot, when the child decided to make its appearance.

The labor was painful. But, strangely enough, not as painful as what she had been put through. Although it took fourteen hours, she felt excited. She was finally going to get the opportunity to get some kind of closure.

As the child came out of her, crying just as intensively as her upon the fact that it had been born, she heard the midwife announce that it was a boy. She wasn’t sure if it was because of tension releasing from within her, the hormones, her mother’s tears of joy, or the fact that it was a boy, but she wailed. It was a boy. Of course it was a boy.

He was put against her breast, that little body she’d been carrying inside her. As they connected in the flesh, for the first time in nine months, he stopped his crying. She resumed anew. With hair so light and eyes so blue, she couldn’t do anything else.

“Irinka, darling!” Her mother understood, like she always did. “All babies have blue eyes, honey.” She stroked her hair, trying to mend her. Trying to make it better. But it was a futile attempt, because that’s when the proud and passionate mother finally understood, in both body and soul, that she would never be rid of him. He would live on forever, being the legend that he was, inside all that she had hoped to make her forget.

“Oh,  _ mamulya _ !” She barely uttered the words before she fell asleep. With her warm little star placed against her heart. He fell asleep too.

Later that night, she had decided. She wanted to let her old life briefly cross paths with the new. Just for this small instance.

 

_ To +792 xxx xx x01 _

**You became a father today. It’s a boy. His name is Valentin.**

* * *

 

He received the message, sitting alone in a bar at the hotel at Narita Airport. He was too deep in thought, too distraught about what had happened some days prior to notice it. The phone was in his pocket, on mute. Just to be safe.

He had left. Left someone he realised to be important. He had made not one indiscretion, but several. To him, that was too much to bear. That wasn’t who he saw himself as. Not at all. But he knew that he had to pay the price, hurting so many. Changing the course of their lives and his own. He wanted to redeem himself, but the realization that all the bridges leading to and from his island were burned, made him angry.

A couple of hours later, he went back to his room. Falling backwards on the bed, wishing it would simply swallow him whole. Wishing that it could consume him and he’d just stop… feeling. Understanding that his wishful thinking was just that, he reached for his phone. Only one message unread.

He’d still kept her number in his contacts, wanting desperately for her to invite him into the life of the one they both created. Understanding that it was her, Irena, made his heart race.  
  


_ From Irena _

**You became a father today. It’s a boy. His name is Valentin.**

  
He read the message. Those three short sentences seemed impossible to understand, like the words were disappearing from his memory as soon as he had read them, forcing him to reread them. Laying a puzzle. Connecting the dots. Solving a riddle. Time and time again. But one thing, he understood.  _ Valentin! _

He didn’t know if it was because of the tension, the realization that he’d become a father, or because the child was a boy, but then and there, Victor Nikiforov wept. Knowing that he had gotten a new chance to make things right. And this time, he would.


End file.
